Page 4 of Livewire Witch

“You shouldn’t have to run away. You shouldn’t be down in that place because of thatmage.”He spits the last word like it's tainted with poison. “You were brave, Silver. You’re always brave. You do what needs to be done, and that’s why you agreed to help Fabian. I know thatslimy fuckerthreatened you, but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have helped Fabian and theothers, anyway. Then you saved Seb’s life, and you didn’t hide who you are or what you can do.”

I shake my head, rubbing my tired eyes.“It wasn’t like I planned any of it, Ember. It all just happened.”

“I know, but I also know that you’d do the same thing all over again.”

He’s got me there. I can’t think of the sequence of events ending up any differently.

“Be careful down there and just hold on a little longer. We’ll get you home soon enough.”

“Thanks, bud. I’m just on the look-out for somewhere to get some food. Rook doesn’t have any ideas, does he?”

Rook has always had an innate sense for routes and exits. I don’t know exactly how it works, seeing as he doesn’t seem to have any actualmagicthat I know of. I also don’t know if his little talent might stretch to knowing where to get sustenance. Maybe it’s my over-tired brain, but it makes sense to me that he might, if he has some kind of innate powers of survival.

Ember goes quiet for a few minutes and I continue to trudge along. My footsteps are the only sound and I’m trying to keep my tread as light as I can, but it’s not easy when my legs are damn tired.

“He says if you walk for another five minutes, keeping to the right when you hit the fork in the tunnels, there should be someone close by that sells food so long as you make a donation.”

My stomach grumbles and churns simultaneously. I’m so hungry, my insides are starting to eat themselves. But his mention of ‘donations’ has my guard going up.

“Donations?”

“Nothing too bad,”Ember replies. “Just a chunk of your hair, apparently.”

I sigh internally. This fucking place.

I’m too tired to even question how Rook has any of this knowledge. It’s not like he’d tell me if I asked, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Plodding further through the tunnel, I mentally repeat Rook’s instructions until I can smell meat cooking up ahead, which I’m hoping is a good sign.

Please don’t let it be more torsos.

I reach the fork. Turn right. Trudge a little further along until I reach a little cart that’s set up.

I nod at the slightly scary lady that seems to be cooking her version of ‘street food’. The air is filled with a haze of smoke and the scent of cooking meat and vegetables—who knows how she got hold of both in this hellhole.

She looks almost human at first glance. Brown hair and wizened pale skin that clearly hasn’t seen sunlight in a long time. Then her eyes flick up to mine and I see the slitted pupils, which are almost sibilant.

Demon.

She doesn’t talk and barely makes eye contact.

“Uh, hello,” I say to her, holding up my fingers to indicate how many pieces of mystery meat I want, like an idiotic tourist. “Three, please.”

She nods jerkily and gestures to the little clay golem beside her. It’s a misshapen thing, just one giant head and a pair of tiny hands and feet. As I watch, it blasts fire from its mouth onto the rotating skewers in front of her. My magic rears up inside of me at the use of magic, absorbing the skill almost instantly and tucking it away with all the rest. I don’t know exactly what it is—whether it’s the ability to make a seriously ugly golem, or if it’s the firepower.

Whatever she’s cooking is small and weirdly enough, I’m hoping it’s a rat. Not something I ever thought I’d be hoping for in my normal life.

The mystery meat is cooked until it’s almost black. Still, it’s better than the alternative which is starving.

She cocks her head to one side and gestures to my hair. But before I can chop some off for her, I notice the storm drain in the ceiling above her and the empty bottles and containers that line the ground along the walls.

“I have another trade for you,” I tell her. “You need some fresh water?”

Her head cocks to one side and for a moment, I worry she doesn’t understand me. Barely a moment later, though, she nods jerkily and gestures to the containers.

This is something I can help with. It’s more useful and certainly way less creepy than chopping off pieces of me and handing them over.

I pull on my newest magic—Zeph’s storm powers and beg the sky for rain.

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